“That’s right. Suck up.”
Tom stared at him, caught off the guard, the ships still dancing on the screen overhead.
“You can think anything you want, Tom, but you won’t get anywhere unless you learn on occasion to act like a pathetic little suck-up. The way I do.”
Tom wasn’t even sure what to say to this. It had never occurred to him that Elliot was completely aware of the way he came across.
Elliot went on. “I admire your integrity. I admire how you hold your ground. But I’d also like to see you win some ground, not just hold it. I’d like to see someone with your creativity, your drive, really get somewhere. You’re not going to do that unless you learn to bend.”
For a moment, Tom was too caught off guard to reply. And then he remembered that this didn’t matter. Not really. “I’m not going to get anywhere, anyway.”
“You’re referring to the Dominion Agra execs and the Beringer Club?”
Tom started.
Elliot smiled. “I’ve heard a few whispers. Your new infamy’s an obstacle to getting a sponsor. I’ll admit it.” He rose to his feet. “But there are four other companies on the Coalition that invest in Indo-American Combatants. Dominion Agra is not the only act in town. Don’t give up hope this soon.”
Tom rose to his feet, confused. This hadn’t gone as he’d expected. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Don’t mention it.” Elliot paused by the door. “Tom, I’m going to recommend you for Middle. I want you to think about what I said, though.” He winked. “And good luck.”
Stunned, wondering if he’d never understood this guy, Tom shook the hand Elliot offered. He was reeling when he left Elliot’s bunk and headed back toward the elevator—and that was how he missed Karl where he was sitting on a couch, downloading his homework.
Karl stopped the download and bounded to his feet. “Lassie.”
Tom wasn’t in the mood for this. He hit the button for the elevator, hoping it would get there soon.
“What, trying to ignore me? Taking the higher ground’s so unlike you.” He heard Karl’s slow, steady footsteps drawing up behind him and turned his back to the elevator.
But Karl didn’t attack him. He hung back in an unsettling manner, lips fixed in a strange, lopsided grin.
“What?” Tom blurted.
“Getting my last look at you.”
“You going somewhere? Remind me to throw a party.”
“No, no. You see, a few days ago, Dalton got the credit card bill for your last party.”
Tom gave an inflammatory laugh. He couldn’t help it.
“I’d thank you for the black eye,” Karl said, “but I guess I don’t need to. Let’s just say, Fido, you’re already dead.”
“Yeah, yeah. You say that a lot, but I’m still here.”
“Not for long. You’re going to be gone very, very soon. So I wanted to enjoy this. It’s like watching a guy you hate about to drop off the edge of a cliff.”
Tom felt a wave of foreboding at the veiled warning but forced a smile to his lips. “Yeah, the anticipation’s mutual. I keep looking at you, Karl, and thinking of how very excited I am about what Dalton’s going to do to you.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“I don’t care. It’s fantastic enough knowing what’s coming to you. And knowing you don’t know it.”
The first uncertainty flickered over Karl’s face. “What, Benji?”
“Dalton told me about the behavioral subroutines you’ve got coming your way. I wonder if he’ll have you gel your hair?” Tom considered him, then shook his head. “Nah. Let’s face it, he can’t play that same angle. I’m prettier than you.”
Karl’s face twisted like he tried for a sneer and couldn’t manage it. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“You have no idea, do you?” Tom said. “Dalton said the only reason they took you on was to get to Elliot, but that didn’t happen. So they’re going to—what was that word you used? Oh, yeah. ‘Neuter’ you. Don’t believe me? I could head right down to the census device. Send you a memory of it.”
Karl didn’t speak.
The elevator door slid open. “Rather live in the dark? Too bad.” Tom turned for it, pulsing with triumph, but Karl seized his collar and yanked him back.
“You’re lying!” Karl aimed a fist at him. Tom ducked his head, and laughed at Karl’s cry when his knuckles slammed the wall.
“Can’t believe you fell for that aga—”
The second fist caught him mid-gloat, drove the breath right from his stomach. Tom doubled over, black spots in front of his vision, his legs sinking beneath him.
“Admit that you’re lying,” Karl snarled down at him.
“What—you want—me to lie—about lying?” Tom choked out.
“Karl? What are you doing?”
Tom had never been so happy to hear Elliot’s voice. Karl flung him to the carpet fast enough to make Tom’s head spin. He clambered to his feet, hearing Karl argue, “This isn’t your business, Elliot. He’s provoking me. He keeps saying—”
Tom staggered upright, fighting for breath. Elliot stood in the middle of the hallway, his steady, dark gaze fixed on Karl’s. “What could possibly justify beating up a fourteen-year-old kid?”
“But, Elliot—”
“Tom’s one of my plebes. I’d like you to leave him alone from now on.”
Karl’s cheeks grew crimson. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Actually, I do, Karl,” Elliot said, his voice soft. “If you want to retain any influence in Camelot Company, you’ll listen to me when I tell you to leave Tom alone. Understand?”
Karl made a face like an angry pit bull. For all his talk to Tom about being the big man in charge, he suddenly looked like an angry little kid.
“Understand?” There was steel in Elliot’s velvety voice.
Tom watched, fascinated, the way Karl’s cheeks turned a dark shade of scarlet. Then Karl jerked a nod.
“That’s a yes?” Elliot said.
“Yes.” Karl’s teeth were gritted.
“Thank you, Karl. Now leave.”
Tom watched, awestruck, as Karl slinked away. He was like some vicious Doberman that had been admonished by his master. It had never occurred to Tom that Karl might listen to anyone. That Karl respected anyone enough to do what they said.
Tom looked at Elliot, understanding for the first time what the other guy had been trying to tell him. Some people didn’t have to fight to hold their ground, to get their way. There were other games to play, other competitions to win.
“You okay there, Tom?” Elliot said.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
He heard the elevator slide open behind him. Before Elliot could disappear back into his bunk, Tom called, “Wait.”
Elliot glanced back at him.
Feeling foolish, Tom looked at the windowed wall. “Elliot, maybe you’re not vicious because you’re not messed up enough.” He darted Elliot a quick glance, saw the calm, thoughtful face. “Maybe you’re too”—he tried to think of an Elliot Ramirez–appropriate word—“too self-actualized to act all savage.”